The Healer
by Braenna Galathil
Summary: A healer is desperate to save her lord. What happens when she finds love the very same day? Better than it sounds, I promise.


The Healer Disclaimer: All characters with the exceptions of Braenna, Ethalinia, Gaenry, Moilia, and Geaven belong to J.R.R.Tolkien. A majority of the story is from the book, but will eventually turn to a story never told.  
  
Braenna, daughter of Ethalinia a maid in the Steward's house and Gaenry a long-dead soldier if Gondor's army, was in the Houses of Healing, tending to Faramir, the new Steward of Gondor, Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan, and Meriadoc Brandybuck, one of the perian, Halflings. All of the art and knowledge she had of Healing was now baffled. Éowyn and Merry had fallen to the black breath of the Nazgûl. Those who were stricken with it fell slowly into an ever-deeper dream, and then passed to silence and a deadly cold, and so died. This malady lay heavily upon Éowyn and Merry, who had fought and killed the Witch-king of Angmar, as Braenna had heard from Gandalf the White Rider.  
Braenna constantly listened to their dream murmuring with hopes to learn something to help her understand their pain, but never did. Soon they began to fall down into the darkness, their faces grey whenever the sun turned west. Faramir, too, murmured in his sleep, but he burned with a fever no Healer could abate.  
Gandalf came to Braenna with tidings of the battle. His accounts of Éomer, King of Rohan, intrigued her the most and she greatly desired to see this horseman. She told him all of what Éowyn, Merry, and Faramir had spoken in their dreams. Gandalf remained in the Houses until the red sunset filled the sky, and the light through the windows fell on the grey faces of the sick. It seemed that in the glow the faces flushed softly as with returning health, but it was only a mockery of hope.  
Braenna was at Faramir's bedside, curled up on the floor beside the bed with her head upon it, her hand laced with his. They had grown up together and were the closest of friends to be found in all of Gondor. An old wife, Ioreth, the eldest of the women in that particular house entered upon this scene, looked on the fair face of Faramir, and wept, for all the people loved him dearly, even if his father did not. Yet Braenna knew that deep down, Denethor had, but she did not yet weep for Faramir. He had once told her that to cry was admitting defeat, which was why she refused to cry. She refused to give up on his chances of life, despite how meager they were.  
"Alas! if he should die," Ioreth said. "Would that there were kings in Gondor, as there were once upon a time, they say! For it is said in old lore: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king could ever be known."  
Braenna lifted her head to see Gandalf standing nearby. "Men may long remember your words, Ioreth!" he exclaimed. "For there is hope in them. Maybe a king has indeed returned to Gondor; or have you not heard the strange tidings that have come to the city?"  
"I have been too busy with this and that to heed all the crying and shouting." Ioreth answered. "All I hope is that those murdering devils do not come to this House and trouble the sick."  
Gandalf then went out with haste. The fire in the sky was burning out, and the smoldering hills were fading, while ash-grey evening crept over the fields. Ioreth laid a hand upon Braenna's shoulder. "You must go to the Hall of the Tower as Mithrandir told you earlier, my dear. You were once the Steward's advisor until Denethor went mad. You must take up your position once more," she stated softly.  
Braenna nodded. She was reluctant to leave Faramir, but she had other duties. "If there is a change in him, I beg you, send a runner to tell me," she pleaded.  
"I shall," Ioreth promised.  
Braenna nodded again. She took one last look at her beloved friend, and then quickly left the House with a goodbye to her friends Moilia and Geaven. She ran swiftly across the courtyard to the Citadel and went to the Hall of the Tower. The Steward's chair stood empty. Before the dais lay Théoden King of Rohan upon a bed of state; and twelve torches stood about it, and twelve guards, knights of both Rohan and Gondor.  
The hangings of the bed were green and white. Upon the king was laid the great cloth of gold up to his breast. Upon that laid his unsheathed sword, his shield at his feet. The light of the torches shimmered in his white hair like sun in the spray of a fountain, but his face was fair and young, save that a peace lay on it beyond the reach of youth; and it seemed that he slept.  
Braenna let a tear slide down her for the king, but quickly wiped it away. As she did, the doors behind her opened. The Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth entered, followed by a man dressed in armor. The man was fair and tall, his hair flaxen-pale with his bangs held back in a leather thong, his face stern. They stood silent for a time beside the king.  
Finally, Imrahil turned to her and said, "It is good to see you here once more, my lady. Tell me, where is the Steward? And where also is Mithrandir?"  
"Of Mithrandir, I know not. He left the Houses a few moments ago with haste," Braenna replied. "The Steward of Gondor now rests in the Houses of Healing."  
The man stepped forward. "My lady, I am Éomer son of Éomund. Where is the Lady Éowyn, my sister; for surely she should be lying beside the king, and in no less honour? Where have they bestowed her?" he demanded.  
"The Lady Éowyn was yet living when they bore her hither," Imrahil said. "Did you not know?"  
"Come, my lord, I will bring you to the Lady Éowyn," Braenna offered. She began to walk out.  
Éomer said no more, but turned and swiftly followed her from the hall, Prince Imrahil behind him. When they came forth evening had fallen and many stars were in the sky. Gandalf was there on foot, with him one cloaked in grey. They met before the doors of the Houses of Healing. They greeted him and said, "Braenna brings strange tidings, Mithrandir. We seek the Steward of Gondor and Braenna has told us he is in this House. And Lady Éowyn, where is she?"  
Braenna and Gandalf shared a grin. Gandalf had foreseen this and informed her, so she took no offense to Imrahil and Éomer not believing her. Gandalf and answered, "She lies within and is not dead, but is near death. But the Lord Faramir was wounded by an evil dart, as you have heard, and he is now the Steward; for Denethor has departed, and his house is in ashes."  
"So victory is shorn of gladness and it is bitter bought, if both Gondor and Rohan are in one day bereft of their lords," Imrahil said. "Éomer rules the Rohirrim. Braenna, the Steward's advisor, is surely the next in line to rule Gondor, yet her eyes betray her reluctance to do so." Braenna nodded, signifying that she agreed that she was reluctant to rule Gondor. "Therefore who shall rule the City meanwhile? Shall we not send now for the Lord Aragorn?"  
The cloaked man spoke and said, "He is come." 


End file.
